Mrs. Tittlemouse had eaten the acorns before Christmas; the storeroom
ought to have been empty.

But it was full of untidy dry moss.

[Illustration: Full of moss]

[Illustration: Bees nest]

Mrs. Tittlemouse began to pull out the moss. Three or four other bees
put their heads out, and buzzed fiercely.

"I am not in the habit of letting lodgings; this is an intrusion!" said
Mrs. Tittlemouse. "I will have them turned out--" "Buzz! Buzz!
Buzzz!"--"I wonder who would help me?" "Bizz, Wizz, Wizzz!"

--"I will not have Mr. Jackson; he never wipes his feet."

Mrs. Tittlemouse decided to leave the bees till after dinner.

When she got back to the parlour, she heard some one coughing in a fat
voice; and there sat Mr. Jackson himself!

He was sitting all over a small rocking-chair, twiddling his thumbs and
smiling, with his feet on the fender.

He lived in a drain below the hedge, in a very dirty wet ditch.

[Illustration: Mr. Jackson]